


I want your heartbeat like a drum

by Skelettoine



Series: the spaces in between [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mention of Child Abuse, Non-Graphic Smut, PTSD, Switch Billy, Switch Steve, they're hurt but learning how to let each other in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-14 14:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18950089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skelettoine/pseuds/Skelettoine
Summary: Billy Hargrove is more like an accidental car crash than anything else; messy and bloody and clawing at each others skin to see what’s beneath. They tumble and crash and don’t fall into each other easily. There’s too many jagged edges in both of them, getting in the way of themselves and yet, somehow they never leave each others orbits. It’s new and scary and transforms them in ways none of them could have forseen. If he’s felt stuck before, he never stands still now, a constant morphing of their dynamic, their relationship something breathing and alive.-Billy and Steve reflect on their relationship and where it's brought them - and how much further still. (A follow up to 'Falling doesn't feel so bad when I know you've fallen this way too' - can be read as a stand-alone one shot)





	I want your heartbeat like a drum

**Author's Note:**

> this is a follow up work for the main fic; even though i still like the ending, it felt like something was missing, so i wrote this as a kind of finish to the whole story. I love this fic so much and always enjoy writing for it, so i hope yall like this and I'd love to hear your thoughts <3

Things feel more inconsequential, after the great fuckup. It blends in his mind like a swirl of fangs and roots that come alive and fire he doesn’t feel burn and screams he’s not always sure are the kids or his own. After it’s all over, it’s difficult, listening to his father scorn him - never anything more, because that would be _effort_ \- hearing him talk of college and work and _it would be good for you to start at my firm, get you a real foundation for your life._

Steve nods along and doesn’t internalize any of it. How does any of this matter? Homework and college essays and the correlations of politics that could have been wiped away in a nights work, had they failed. He remembers blood pumping through his veins, andrenaline high enough it numbed out the pain of his mangled face. The feeling of being so alive, he could taste death on his tongue.

How surreal ordinary life seems after just a few days of the supernatural. How incredibly stupid, to feel the dull ache pulsating in his chest whenever he sees Nancy laughing with Jonathan the way she used to laugh with him. Only never quite like that. Never like it was meant to last. Steve hates admitting this to himself, but it was clear from the start that she’d never be satisfied with being with him, not for long. It was just so _nice_ , was easy in the way his life opened up in front of him with her by his side. That he could work in his fathers damned firm and have the perfect suburban family, with someone who would be worth it all.

His old friends would have had his head for something like that; hell, he’d have mocked himself just a year ago. The dream of the white picket fence around the lawn and a big house with two kids. Nowadays he doesn’t know if that was actually what he wanted or what he thought would make Nancy happy. It’s not important anymore anyway, because whatever he thought he could give Nancy would never be enough, so she left. And the picture didn’t make sense without her after all, did it?

Billy Hargrove is more like an accidental car crash than anything else; messy and bloody and clawing at each others skin to see what’s beneath. They tumble and crash and don’t fall into each other easily. There’s too many jagged edges in both of them, getting in the way of themselves and yet, somehow they never leave each others orbits. It’s new and scary and transforms them in ways none of them could have forseen. If he’s felt stuck before, he never stands still now, a constant morphing of their dynamic, their relationship something breathing and alive.

They have enough hurt to fill them both to the brim and it has them crawling beaten and shaking to each other, not because there is no other option, but because they are the _only_ option. Where this thing between them is rough, with bruises on hips and sharp words, it’s soft, too, lets them hold each other through 3am panic attacks and stroking through still wet blond curls, careful to not brush over the cut a fathers ring leaves on cheekbones.

And while Billy is the opposite of Nancy, really, it’s him who stays through Steves coffeine induced sleepless nights, holds him when he starts shaking so hard he can’t hold a pen anymore. It’s another thing Steve never expected with Billy; how easy it is to just lay side by side, no tension behind gentle touches and lazy kisses. Sometimes those times bleed into another thing entirely, times where no touch is enough, could never be enough and they devour each other like starving animals, chasing after a closeness so intense it makes every expierence before Billy pale in comparison.

There are days where they can’t find any softness in them at all, where it feels so much like the start of their relationship, only somehow better now. Everything is rough and sharp because it needs to be, bruising touches and bite marks, every tender thought burned by fury and hurt and desire. They scratch and growl, words like daggers, because they know where they hurt the most. Tides between them change so fast, Steve gets whiplash from them, their pull so strong he can’t do anything other than let himself get swept up by them. He finds he doesn’t mind drowing, as long as it’s with Billy.

Seeing Billy come undone under him is something that makes Steve behold him with something akin to reverence. It doesn’t matter if it’s the gentle gasps that leave his mouth when Steve is inside him the first time, how he arches his back off the mattress, long eyelashes fanning over his cheeks as he closes his eyes, brows drawn in concentration, taking everything Steve is giving him. It’s amazing, to see him let go so completely, to have him in his _bed_ , to have him allow Steve to take care of him like this. To have Billy hold onto him.

It’s the other way around much more than Steve is comfortable with and it gnaws at him. Billy has seen him in worse states than anyone else, been through phases his friends didn’t even know he was having. He’s not used to this, this complete exposure of himself that leaves him raw and vulnerable. He’s the protector; the one who puts his own struggles aside because they’re not that important anyway and he’s good at making others feel better. With Billy, it’s like a filter is gone and while he’s a tight sown bundle of nerves most other times, he falls apart in Billys hands so easily, it’s frightening. And Billy never complains, is just there and listens to Steves broken voice, to things so abhorrent they make his blood run cold.

It leaves Steve at a loss, really, makes him feel vulnerable and powerless. Like something broken that needs fixing. He tells Billy this, one time after they lay in sweaty sheets, breathless pants and hazy thoughts dancing across the room. Billy is upset at him about that, he can tell and he hates himself for ruining the moment, for running his stupid mouth and it’s so hard to look into Billys eyes after he asks him to a second time, demanding. ‘You don’t need no one to fucking fix you’, he tells him, eyes waverless, holding his look with a fierceness too intense to look away. ‘You do all this shit for me, get me patched up and take care of me and get upset when i do something for you in return? I’m not Nancy, Steve’, his voice full of distain but it’s played up for show, because however many barriers they rip down between them, this shit is still hard.

Billys words make something inside his chest ache with a mix of pain and fondness and Steve is in his lap a moment later, fingers tightly pulling his head back by hair, covering Billys mouth with breathy kisses, an urgency behind it that has his whole body on fire. Billys tongue in his mouth feels so good and he’s all sensation and feeling; he allows it to overwhelm him and let himself believe Billy is not leaving.

-

The room is stuffy with old air and Billy is itching for a smoke. He cranes his head from where it was resting on Steves chest to take a look outside, curtains always open but windows never unlocked during the night. Winter is almost over, but the March sun still takes its time to illuminate the sky during the early morning, so they stay shut for now. It’s one of the many habits of Steve he’s come to learn since he started spending more time here than at his own house.

Careful, as to not rouse Steve from his much needed sleep, he gets up, enjoys strutting naked through the gigantic house with nothing on him but his lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He lets the pads of his fingers sweep along the wall as he descends the stairs, feels the muscles in his body come awake. Gathering up his jeans jacket along the way, he steps outside. Streching in the fresh morning air in the Harringtons backyard, his gaze automatically moving over to the woods, involuntary looking at the spaces between the trees for anything remotely resembling the things out of Steves nightmares. The rigourus rules he keeps might be unpractial at times, but Billy sure as hell understands why they are held up with such unwavering perseverance.

Steve had told him months ago, most of it in the safety of his - _their_ \- bed, slow and stocking, every word strained. The terror in his voice was so real it didn’t even occur to Billy for a second that he could be lying, no matter how crazy it all sounded. He’s gotten better at it by now, talks about it when they’re up during the night, sitting out by the pool with beer, Steve never without his bat. Snippets of moments he remembers, slick bodies moving between rusty cars and the sound of crunching bone, all the while staring into the forest, chin high, as if to taunt whatever was lurking in it.

As he lights his cigarette, Billy reminisces about how he used to think Steve was weak; soft. He chuckles at the thought, takes a deep drag and watches the smoke rise up as he breathes it out his lungs. Steve is soft alright; but he is sharp too, harsh edges in places he didn’t expect, a girm stubbornness that doesn’t allow him to fold. And Billy doesn’t fault him for being haunted the way he is, doesn’t mind holding his tembling body when the memories are so vivid, he forgets where is and Billy can see it all play before his eyes again and again and again.

He grits his teeth at the thought of Steve alone with his demons, anger rising up at the girl who just up and left him to happily screw some other guy. How she still expects him to spend time with her and her new boyfriend, to be there for her while he was hiding out in his big fucking empty house, half mad with paranoia and nightmares. Torturing himsef by playing look out all by himself, keeping by the pool where Barb died, the pool where horror still lurked right under the surface for him.

Billy takes a deep breath of cold air, letting it cool down the fire in the pit of his stomach, unclenching his fist. _Steve is not alone anymore_ , he reminds himself and heads back inside.

He looks around the kitchen and decides 6am is too early for breakfast on a Saturday. As he crawls back into bed, Steve is still asleep, but his face is scrunched up, hands fisting the blankets. His chest aches and warms at the same time when Steve immediatly reaches out for him, barely conscious, his body relaxing with Billys arms back around him, head tucked into the curve of the space between his neck and shoulder. Billy gets himself back into a comfortable position and in a wave of affection kisses the crown of Steves head, allowing himself to tighten his grip protectively.

-

‘We could leave, y’know’ Billy looks over at Steve, eyes for once looking up at the stars, instead of the woods. He blinks, needs a second to take in the boy before him; the blue light of the pool tinting his skin, his hair undone and falling around his face in unruly curls. He looks like something etheral like this, something otherworldy, captivating. He blinks again and the words catch up to him.

‘And go where?’

‘Anywhere. I don’t know. Chicago. Just the hell away from here.’ At night all things seem possible and Billys arm still hurts from where his father had gripped him the day before, so he humors the idea. ‘And what are we going to do in Chicago?’

‘I don’t know. I could work. You could go to college.’ Billy snorts and Steve turns his look to him, snapping: ‘Don’t even start, I know you’re way smarter than you act.’

‘Excuse you, I don’t know what you mean. I am the epitome of the beautiful brainless blonde.’ Billy grins wolfishly. Steve huffs in exasperation and throws an empty can of beer at him. ‘Nevermind, forget I said anything’ he says but there is an amused smile playing on his lips. Billy can’t help but think that this did not come as out of no where as Steve wants him to believe and goes quiet.

He thinks about it, imagines them in their own apartment in the city. Small and shabby but theirs, far away from Neil and Hawkins and the things lurking under its ground. Steve off to work early and him going to college, kissing when they’re coming home late and tired, eating take out and having a bed that is truly _theirs_. He’s taken aback at how much he likes the idea, how right it feels, how much he wants this. Wants Steve by his side, can’t even imagine a future that doesn’t involve him and his smile.

They don’t talk about it for the rest of the night, but when they wake up the next day, sun streaming through the windows, the sky clear, Billy finds he still wants it, wants it during the reality of the day almost more than during fuzziness of the night. His fingers stroke slowly over Steves arm, kisses his shoulder, takes in the scent of sleep on his skin and it’s scary when he says to him: ‘I would, you know. Get out of here. With you, only you.’ and it’s worth it when Steve looks up to him with big eyes and shaking breath. His hands come up to cup Billys face, a thumb caressing the fresh scar on his right cheek bone and when he kisses him it’s like the sun is rising in his chest. Steves voice is only a breath but his eyes hold Billy so safely, he would lay his life in these hands.

‘Only us.’


End file.
